Unacceptable Changes
by justplainrii
Summary: Meeting again after seven years, Larry knew instantly that something was wrong with Phoenix's head. It felt as if he'd become an entirely different man. Nobody believed him, of course. They saw nothing wrong. But, for once, Larry was right.
1. Bros Before Hos

Larry Butz was a man who suffered for his art. Literally.

After all, it was entirely art's fault that he was now in the Hickfield Clinic with a broken arm, after falling off his glorious stone work-in-progress. Never mind the fact that Larry wasn't wearing a harness, nor padding the ground below with anything. It was entirely art's fault.

Though, Larry figured as he examined the lime green thing in the bathroom, casts were pretty sexy; a good way to get girls to write down numbers for him, too.

"Larry Butz, you sly dog, you are one cool customer," he said, stroking his chin as he looked into the mirror, thinking the situation over. "That's right, man, cool with a capital K."

After shooting a practiced smile into the mirror, he waltzed out of the bathroom, hungry and not in the mood for any of that junk they called food in the cafeteria. What Larry longed for was some fresh food, and fresh air too, for that matter—the Butz had to be free! The hospital was totally cramping his style. "Bad for my inspiration," he said to himself, "my artistic... ness. My zen, my mojo." He rattled off increasingly creative and increasingly less accurate terms as he went along the hospital hallway.

Needless to say, Larry was completely bypassing the fact that inspiration was probably the last thing he should have had on his mind, particularly since he couldn't produce much art in this condition. The most pressing matter should have been thinking about how best to contact the family that had commissioned the sculpture from him (What was their name again? Tackiya? Tamina? Whichever.) to let them know he'd be unable to work on the stupid thing until his arm was better. But it probably didn't matter much, he figured; sculptures took such a long time to make in the first place, right? They wouldn't notice a few days (or weeks) missing from the schedule. Heck, Larry even doubted they were—well _hello_ there.

He stopped rather suddenly, for his attention had been stolen quite effectively by the shy glance of a young woman on a bench in the hospital lobby.

She was pretty, unbelievably so, with hair that that fell in silken curls that were a gleaming shade of blue with soft eyes to match. A sketchbook was poised in her lap, her pencil flying over the page.

She was totally Larry's type.

He grinned knowingly, nodding as he ran a hand through his hair. Such a beauty would only be impressed by top-tier moves. Sidling his way over to the bench, he leaned against the wall with his good elbow. The woman's pencil halted for an instant as he leaned in, before darting more intensely over the paper.

"So, you're an artist, huh?" he drawled, smooth as peanut butter.

She tensed up, shoulders rising, barely glancing at him. Without warning, she flipped the page in her sketchbook (what was she really drawing, anyways?) and drew a decidedly happy face.

"...yes," she said, her voice no more than a whisper.

Oh man, that voice was too cute! His grin widened. "That's pretty good! Quick with the pencil, I like that!"

She faltered, before opening a new page and scribbling down... the same face. "...thank you," she murmured.

Man, she was totally into him! Time for introductions. "My name's Larry. Larry Butz. Nice to meetcha."

"...likewise."

Larry, being fluent in totally-into-himese, instantly translated the word in his head: _"I love you. Take me, I'm yours." _He sidled closer, now sure he had the okay.

"Y'know... I'm a bit of an artist myself," he said, reaching for her pencil. It had a bear topper on it. Larry liked cute girls that liked cute things. "Mind if I draw you a picture?"

Her shoulders hunched as his fingers neared it, and her grip tightened on it a moment. Larry paused; apparently, she was considering the question very, very thoroughly.

Seconds stretched, leaving Larry in an awkward half-reaching position, before she loosed her hold on the pencil. "...go ahead."

"Thanks!" Larry said, winking. Smoothly, he took the sketchbook from her hands as well, and propped it in his lap as he sat beside her. He tapped the bear top against his chin. What to draw, what to draw... Aha.

The best way to get to a woman's heart was through her face, Larry figured, and began to draw a portrait.

"Y'know," he noted, while carefully sculpting her narrow chin, "you're pretty lucky I didn't break my _left_ arm, huh? Or else I wouldn't be able to draw for you."

She took nearly a minute to reply, staring at the back of the sketchbook now in Larry's hands. "...I suppose so," she finally said.

Larry practically squealed in delight, but managed to keep relatively cool, resulting in a happy squint. _Man_, that voice was cute!

As the pencil skated over the paper, he caught sight of her leaning in, half nervous, half curious. He smirked and waggled a finger. "Ah-ah! No peeking 'til it's finished, all right?"

"Ah..." Her left hand clenched faintly as she watched her pencil. "...all right."

Larry's tongue poked out between his lips as he went, glancing at her occasionally for reference, imagining what flawless pickup line he'd use after he showed her the masterpiece, and she'd gushed about it.

_"Madam, it was a pleasure; and yet, almost a crime. I'm unworthy to translate such a beautiful face to paper."_ Oh yeah, that one would do.

"And... voila!" With a wild flourish and scrawl of signature, he gave the book a dramatic spin to show off his handiwork. "Touche, bon appetite, mon petite chou!" Larry didn't speak French, and he hoped the girl didn't either.

Her eyes fixed on the paper, darting over their penciled counterparts, before she leaned forward and, so gently, plucked the sketchbook away from him.

Larry grinned, expectant, as she pored over it. Any second now, here came the praise—and the phone number.

"...it's very nice," she finally replied. Larry leaned forward, nodding.

"...mhmm?"

She looked back at him, before returning to the sketchbook.

"Mhmmmm?" Larry said again, for good measure. She was just speechless, he figured—some people were easily impressed.

"...I'd like my pencil back... please..." she said, not looking at him.

"What?" His face fell an instant; that wasn't exactly what he'd wanted to hear, but he put the grin back on before it was missed. "Right! Right, your pencil. Here y'are."

She snatched it back a little more quickly than seemed necessary.

Hours seemed to pass. Larry had begun tapping his foot on the floor. Just what was _up_ with this girl? And on top of that, he was getting rather hungry. A man was nothing with an empty stomach, after all.

There was a flip of paper, and a scratch of pencil. A smiley face peered back at him. "...thank you for drawing that for me," she said. And she smiled, just a little.

Score one for Larry.

"Hey, it was my pleasure," he replied. "Any time."

She nodded, and closed the sketchbook, fingers playing with the edge.

Well, not everyone was blessed with confidence. Larry figured he'd do the girl a favor. "So, how 'bout lunch?" he asked.

A startled flinch, and she peered back once more, gripping her book tight. Ooh, she was so excited she'd nearly jumped out of her skin! He beamed and scratched the back of his head. "I'm buyin' and everything, so you can get whatever! Anything you want, leave it to the Butz!"

She considered the floor carefully, and after what seemed a year, she flipped open the book again. A few strokes of the pencil, and a grin stood out on the paper. "...that sounds nice."

Larry performed a very long and elaborate mental victory dance in his head as he stood, grinning. "Great! Where were you thinking?"

Once more, she brought her nail up to her lip, but didn't bite it. Instead, she held the sketchbook. "...I eat lunch in my room," she replied.

Oh, man! Five minutes, and she was already inviting him to her room! What a find! Larry truly was a lucky man. He thought his face would break if he grinned any harder. Shooting another thumbs up, he babbled, "Sounds great to me! Your room! Sounds awesome!"

"...will you bring more sketches of yours?"

O-ho! Man, did he pick the right job! "Oh, yeah, sure, got a ton in my room!"

She presented him, once again, a doodle of a grin. "...I'd like to see them," she said.

"Sure thing! I'll show you whatever you want!" Larry said. "Anything! Sure thing! Yeah! So, uh," he added, "where's your room, anyways? You want me to get my stuff first?"

She nodded, and became engrossed in yet another drawing. It seemed to be a map. "...third floor. ...seventh room. ...I look forward to it." Before Larry could get a good look at the map, she had flipped the page over and drawn another smile. "...it will be fun."

Larry was gone before she could say anything more, whether she wanted to or not. Fun. Oh yeah, it was going to be fun.

Up to his room in a flash, his sketchbook was quickly tucked under his arm, and just as quickly he was back in the halls, puzzling over which room his ravishing beauty resided in. Was it the third room of the seventh floor? The seventh room of the third floor? The tenth room of the first floor? Oh well! Might as try all of them! Didn't matter much, so long as the end result—lunch with a startlingly beautiful girl—was achieved.

In fact, Larry's search went relatively well. Several options were knocked off once he realized that the clinic only had three floors, and on top of that, only ten rooms per floor. Plus, the first floor was all ER's and operating rooms and places where nurses glared at him, saying things like "You're not allowed back here, sir," and other completely uninteresting stuff. They'd be way more interesting, Larry thought to himself, if a few of them looked more... nurse-ey, and not so much like middle-aged ladies in scrubs with icky hair. Those types weren't much fun at all.

With utmost care, he opened the door to a room on the third floor and peered inside—and, much to his delight, found exactly what he was looking for.

"My sapphire-haired goddess!" he proclaimed, flinging the door completely open and basking in the brilliance that was his as-of-five-seconds-ago favorite nickname for his soon-to-be-girlfriend. "I have returned! Brought my sketch-"

There was another man in the room.

Larry's sketchbook fell to the floor with a thump of cardboard and folding paper.

"Hey! What gives?!" he yelled, screwing up his face in anger and stomping towards the offender—though keeping his distance. Said offender was a rather _big_ fellow. "You don't go on dates with two people at the same time!!"

"...oh, I'm sorry," Larry's sapphire-haired goddess replied, apology clear on her face. Her other date, or whatever he was, didn't seem to be nearly as sheepish, however. He didn't really look much of anything, really, since his back was turned to Larry.

"Baby! Don't be sorry!" Larry said quickly, managing a quick, dashing—or at least semi-dashing, whatever he could muster—grin. "It's _him_ who should be sorry!" He frowned again, and with utter determination and guts, he tapped his rival in love on the arm. "What're you doing here, bub?"

The bub turned around, and blinked, eyes half-closed. He tilted his head a little, and looked at the open door. "...eh?"

"Yeah! Just what's your problem? This is _my_ date. _My_ lunch. Dunno who invited _you_," Larry continued, absolutely steamed.

"...ah. Sorry," said the uninvited man.

Larry blinked a few times, befuddled by this lack of resistance. He was probably winning. "Yeah! So, uh... get lost!"

"...mm?" said the man who was supposed to get lost.

Larry squinted at his opponent, unsure what to make of him. "...man, really, are you even listening to me?" He scratched the back of his head. "My artistic Venus, darling, who is this?" he asked, turning to her with as valiant a smile as he could manage.

"...it's Mr. Right," she replied.

Larry's stomach sank. Oh, crap. He was dealing with a Woman Already In A Relationship. He hated when this happened. "Ah, right... uh... so I ... so I guess you've already... huh." With just the slightest twist of dejection in his face, he glanced from his shy-eyed, stolen paragon of perfection and into the face of the man who owned her heart.

He could have sworn he'd seen that face before. Where had he seen that face before?

"...you should stop mumbling, I can't hear a word you're saying," the heart-thief told him.

"WELL!" he blurted back, jarred out of his thoughts. "Uh. I'm, uh, happy for you two," Larry stammered, forcing a parody of a grin onto his face. "You're a, uh, great-lookin' couple! Haha! Real great..."

He was in agony.

The guy in front of him smirked, looking down. "Wow, aren't you observant," he said.

"Well, I _am_ an artist," Larry replied with excessive pride, almost forgetting how angry he was. "I was born to observe."

"Oh, really."

Larry squinted in skepticism, realizing just then that he was being treated with a fresh dose of sarcasm. He frowned. "Don't make fun of me, buddy," he growled. "That's just not right!"

The man looked at him, still smiling in a patronizing sort of way. Despite himself, Larry began Observing, as if trying to prove a point.

It was upon this Observing that Larry realized something.

There was something there, something in the sharpness of that man's eyes that he knew, that he had known for years and years and years. Sharp, blue-black eyes, the color of something shiny and dark, like a raven, or, or some other bird...

Larry's own eyes, sharp but brown as mud, widened. "...Phoenix?" he said.

The sharp-eyed man blinked a few times, this time staring out the window, before turning back to what Larry thought was his lover and giving a casual, lazy wave. "Nice seeing you, Vera," he said, and began on his way out.

Larry was too preoccupied with the fact that he now could recognize the man's voice to even register that his shy, sweet, dew-eyed teddy-bear without a name now had one. "Nick! Is that you?" he said.

Phoenix, or whoever the man was, did not reply. Larry followed in hot pursuit down the hallway, leaving his sketchbook abandoned on the floor, with a very confused and deserted young woman behind to look through it a few minutes later, in vague awe and delight.

Larry, however, was feeling increasingly confused and maybe, just maybe, the slightest bit hurt. "Hey! Nick! That's you, isn't it? Nick! Hey! Stop for a sec, will ya? It's me!" Phoenix had bypassed the elevators and opened the door to the stairwell. Larry followed suit, now only a few steps behind. "Y'know, me! Larry Butz! Dude, how have you been? I haven't seen you in forever!"

"Nope," was all he said in reply. They reached the bottom of the stairwell, and Phoenix walked out onto the first floor.

"Man, stop for a moment, will you? I wanna talk!" Larry continued, still trying to keep in stride with Phoenix's surprisingly quick pace. "It's been ages!"

"Mhm." He still wasn't stopping.

Larry continued on, regardless. "How've you been, anyways? Still lawyering and all that?"

"I'm fine. Nice seeing you, Larry." He kept walking, exiting the hospital.

At that point, Larry decided that it was time to Take Action. He grabbed Phoenix's shoulder. "Dude! Just stop! You in a hurry or something?"

Phoenix blinked, almost sleepily, and finally stopped. "Not particularly," he admitted.

" Right! Okay!" Larry said, completely satisfied by the answer. "Now then..." He leaned in conspiratorially. "What are you doing in that _fine _young lady's room?"

"Talking."

"Yeah? But you're not dating, right?"

"Yeah." Larry hardly noticed that Phoenix wasn't looking at him.

"Ah! Cool, cool. So... you two're buddies, right?"

"In a sense."

Larry grinned, snickering. "Man! How'd you meet a dream like her?"

Phoenix didn't respond; he still was looking away.

"Ooh, gonna keep your secrets from me, huh? Huh?" He pushed Phoenix's shoulder, grinning and laughing. "Nick, you dog! C'mon, man, let me in on your secret."

"I don't think you really need to know," Phoenix replied, lowering his head and smiling slightly, but without any enthusiasm. His hat—_weirdass _hat, Larry thought—hid his eyes.

"No way, Nick, 'course I do!" Larry insisted.

"No. You don't." Phoenix's voice was cold and harsh, and his smile had disappeared. Larry felt a shiver run up his spine.

"Dude, what's wrong?" Larry said, after gulping and collecting his nerves.

"Nothing. Nice seeing you, Larry," said Phoenix, and turned to leave.

"Waitwaitwaitwait! Nick!" Larry called, reaching and grabbing him by the shoulder again. "Man! You don't see me in, like, what, ten years?"

Even Larry could see that Phoenix didn't look amused. "Seven."

"Seven years, and you're, like, completely ignoring me! What's up with that?"

"Nothing." He turned around. "Nice seeing you, Larry," he said, his voice indicating otherwise.

Larry grabbed him again. "No, dude, seriously! C'mon!" Phoenix's eyes were downcast and stern as he paused, Larry's face growing more concerned. "Lemme know what's going on, did something happen?"

Phoenix didn't answer.

"C'mon. Let me probe your brain a bit, okay? Buddy?" He attempted a smile, and a comforting pat on the shoulder. Phoenix tensed. "Like, what's with the hobo gear? I thought I'd never see you out of the suit-"

"**Go away.**"

Larry backed off, horrified by the terrifying tone in his supposed friend's voice. "Dude. _Dude. _What's the _matter_ with you?"

"Nice seeing you, Larry," Phoenix repeated sourly, shuffling off. Larry stood in shock for a while, before gulping and collecting his thoughts; he couldn't just let Nick _go_. Unsure, he started to follow after Phoenix, careful this time to keep distance.

Larry... wasn't sure what to think of it. He knew Nick. He'd known Nick since they were kids. And the man he'd just seen here—the man with the same face and voice as his age-old buddy—that man had not been Phoenix Wright. Because Phoenix did not ever, ever cold shoulder his friends.

He didn't when Larry had broken his favorite action figure in second grade, nor after Larry'd convinced him to try jumping off the roof into a dumpster in middle school and ended up slamming his head into the metal corner; not even after Larry had ditched him to hang out with Emilie and he waited outside the movie theater for two hours. He'd grumble, he'd scold, but he'd never, ever snap.

And Nick had most certainly just snapped. It was something altogether new to Larry, and it scared him.

Sure it was a long time since they'd last _really_ seen each other--seven, eight years?--but there was a difference between changing with time and becoming something entirely different.

So, in the disbelief and wonder of what exactly could have made Nick into... _that_, Larry could only think of one course of action: stalking.

Larry considered himself quite the accomplished stalker, though he preferred to refer to it as "Stealthy Scoping." It was a fantastic way to do research on potential dates, when he was younger and pickier; hence, he didn't use it as often these days. But Larry still had it... or at least, he thought he did.

He was five minutes away from the hospital before Phoenix glared at the bush serving as Larry's hiding spot. "Go away, Larry," he said.

Larry said nothing, diving further behind the bush and peeking over the top, just in case. Phoenix sighed and continued walking. So did Larry.

He followed for quite a while longer, and quite effectively (he could count the number of times Phoenix saw him on only one hand--success!), at that. Finally, he caught sight of Nick vanishing into a building--a restaurant? Aha, his first hint. Stealthy as a tiptoeing giraffe, he sidled in after.

The place was poorly lit, greasy, and, it seemed, just opening. A faint gurgle from his gut reminded Larry of his desperate need for lunch, and he almost took a seat before he recalled that he was stealthing. Keeping close to the wall, Larry scoped the room before catching sight of Nick debating with a man by the piano, his friend's back turned to him.

"...can't even play it, then I've got no need for you here."

"Ah... That's fair. I do want my pay, though."

"You never did anything!"

"I never got any complaints until now. How was I supposed to know to change?"

Larry's hunger and lack of understanding kept him from listening to the argument too carefully, but he could tell that this guy was talking to Nick about a job. What the job exactly was, however, Larry couldn't tell. He listened more.

"If I hire you to play piano, you play piano. You're not supposed to just sit around and look pretty!"

"The customers didn't know that, though, did they? They didn't have a problem."

"Just get out of here," the man (the manager, Larry guessed) growled. "And I'm not paying you!"

Phoenix did nothing but nod, and left without a word. Careful not to arouse suspicion, Larry didn't follow immediately (doubtless he'd be able to find Nick again after a good bit of wandering). Instead, he took the opportunity to get some information.

He approached the manager of the restaurant, who quickly tried to mask his irritation. "Hi, can I help you with anything?" he asked, rough annoyance still behind the relatively cheerful tone.

"Yeah, uh, who was that guy just now?" Larry asked. "Y'know, kinda tall, blue hat?"

"Oh, him." The manager's face fell. "He's just a nobody I hired a while back 'cause he said he could play piano. Huge mistake. Turns out, jerk can't play it at all!"

"Eh? So what'd he do?" Larry said, his face wrinkling.

"Beats me. He mostly just sat around," the manager sighed. "Finally decided to fire the guy, and—get this—he wanted me to pay him! What a jerk."

"Yeah, I saw that," Larry said, nodding absentmindedly. What in the world was Nick doing, pretending to be a piano player? Maybe it was just a side-job, but even then, Larry knew that Nick didn't play piano.

He played violin. And he played pretty well, Larry'd always thought. But one day, he just packed the thing into its case and shoved it under his bed, where it had collected dust ever since. Larry'd been there the day he did it.

"I just don't like it much, anymore," he'd explained, and that was that.

But even if he didn't like it, he could still play it, no doubt. So why would he pick piano, of all things? It was absolutely perplexing.

"Ah, but enough about him," the manager continued, snapping Larry out of the memory. "What, do you know him or something?"

"Yeah, yeah, I do, he's an old friend," Larry said quickly. "Y'don't happen to know where he lives, do ya?"

"Huh? No, why would I?" snapped the manager, raising a suspicious brow.

"Ah... Uh, thanks anyways!" Larry replied, and darted out of the restaurant, hoping he'd find Nick shortly afterward. So much for getting information...

But Nick was nowhere to be found, even after a good hour of searching. Larry was in a foul mood, made only fouler by the fact that he was starving. He patted the seat of his pants--yes! He hadn't forgotten his wallet, at least. Thanking his lucky stars (of which there were very few) he stepped into the first restaurant he saw and ordered a burger that was far too large for a man his size.

Midway through the massive plate of fries that came with said enormous burger, a man in an odd, electric blue hat passing by the window caused him to jump up, slap some bills on the table (consequently overpaying for his meal by at least 20) and run after him.

The chase was, once again, on.

With lunch in his belly, Larry's sneaking skills improved considerably, and he noticed with glee that Nick didn't take notice of his pursuit. It was a rather exciting thought, which very nearly gave him away as he rounded the corner and gave himself an enthusiastic fist pump.

It as then that he realized he was walking down some unusually familiar streets.

Wait... Wasn't that where his offices where? Nick vanished through a door, and Larry followed cautiously behind, peering in the glass of the door and watching him walk up a flight of stairs. "So is he still lawyering...?"

Larry needed answers. And he just knew he'd find those answers by climbing up the fire escape and seeing what the other windows would offer him.

The fire escape led to a window on the second floor that, fortunately enough, looked into the lobby of Nick's office.

At least, what used to be it.

The place had completely changed, and was an absolute mess, at that. Weird... things were strewn everywhere, organized (if even) haphazardly. There were stacks of books and random junk, and, on a hook on the wall, a beautiful blue stage costume was hanging.

"What in the...?" Larry began, but quickly hushed himself, ducking behind the window as the door opened and voices came in from behind it.

"And be sure to get me extra fries, 'kay Polly?"

"Yes, okay, fine... You sure you don't want anything, Mr. Wright?"

The speaker's voice was unfamiliar and young, but quickly joined by Nick's. "No, I'm afraid I've already eaten."

"What? That's not fair. Daddy, why didn't you tell me?"

Larry flinched, nearly losing his balance and causing quite a clatter. D-Daddy?!

"Ha ha ha, I stayed out longer than I had expected. Forgive me," replied Phoenix's voice.

"Aw, it's really okay, Daddy," said the voice of what was somehow Nick's daughter. "C'mon, Polly, just 'cause Daddy's not getting anything doesn't mean I'm not hungry!"

"Better get going, Apollo."

"Fine, fine, I'll be back later," groaned the owner of the third voice, and Larry was already down the fire escape by the time the door had closed behind him.

"Leave it to Mr. Wright to have me pay for my own victory banquAAAGH!"

Larry leaned in, grinning. "Hey, kid, can I ask you something real quick?"

The young man that Larry had just scared the crap out of grabbed his chest and started to pant. "What in the...?"

Larry took that to be a yes. "Do you know Nick?"

"Nick...? Who's Nick?"

"Phoenix! Yeah, I mean Phoenix. Phoenix Wright. You know him?"

"Uh..." The young man caught his breath, and now gave Larry a perplexed stare. "...yeah, uh, I guess? Why, do you-"

"Great! Maybe you can help me with something, then," Larry interrupted, grin stretching to a full-on beam.

"Uh... Sure, I guess. I'm in a bit of a hurry, thoug-"

"Awesome! So, uh, what's Nick been up to?" Larry asked.

"Nick...? Oh, you mean Mr. Wright... Well, uh..." The young man scratched the back of his head. "It'd help if you were a little more specific, Mr...?"

"Oh! I'm Larry, Larry Butz," Larry said, and extended a hand. His offer wasn't accepted. "I'm an old friend of Nick's."

"I see... Funny, I've... never heard of you."

"What, really? Nick totally saved my life. Like, more than once," Larry explained, nodding for emphasis. "I was his first client, y'know! And believe you me, I've saved his butt more than a few times myself. Decisive witness, 'n all. Pretty cool, huh?"

"Uh... sure."

"Speakin' of which!" Larry said, suddenly remembering what he was going to ask in the first place. "How's that going for him? He still at it?"

"Still at...?"

"_You_ know. Lawyer stuff," Larry replied. "This is his office, right?"

"Well... yeah, but it's not exactly a law office anymore," replied the young man, looking at the offices himself. "It's an... Anything Agency, I guess."

"Cool! Uh... what's that?" Larry said, a mildly vacant smile on his face. "And why's it not a law office or whatever anymore?"

"Beats me," the man replied with a resigned shrug, before giving Larry another once-over. "Also, didn't you know? He lost his badge several years ago."

Larry stared a second, blinking, his grin frozen. "Eh? Whazzat mean?"

"It means he's not a lawyer anymore," the man said, glancing back up the stairway. "Look, Mr. Putz? I really gotta go."

"I really need to hear what's up with him, though!" Larry whined, screwing up his face.

"Why don't you just talk to him yourself? I gotta run..."

"I can't!" Larry protested, and received a sigh in return.

"Listen, I'm sorry, but I gotta go," the young man said, and promptly left Larry alone to gawk.

"Crap," Larry said.

"My, what brings you all the way over here, Larry?" said a familiar, yet uncharacteristically cold voice behind him. "The hospital's quite a bit away from here."

Slowly, Larry turned around to see Nick standing in the doorway with a joyless smirk on his face.

Larry stiffened and gulped, forcing a quick smile. "Nothing just enjoying the weather seeya!" he babbled, before running for dear life.

-/-

Phoenix waited until the annoyance was out of sight, sighed, and went back up the stairs. Trucy was busying herself by tidying up in the living room... as best as that room could be tidied, at least. "Who was that, Daddy?" she asked, smiling over her shoulder.

Phoenix shrugged, a hollow smirk on his lips. "Just a bad memory," he replied, quietly. And that was that.

-/-

Collapsed on a bench and staring above at the nearly-cloudless sky, Larry tried to catch his breath while simultaneously collecting his thoughts (and seeing as Larry's thoughts were complicated enough without multitasking, this was quite a task).

So, his best friend had cut himself off, losing his job and all recognizable personality, and somehow gained a daughter and some other unknown kid.

What was the deal?! People could change in seven years, yeah, but... Nick just didn't seem the "changeable" type. Now Edgeworth, he was a different story. He went from a stick-up-the-ass ice cube to a slightly-more-sociable ice cube practically overnight, and stayed that way.

Well, at least Larry thought it was a huge change.

Either way, Edgey'd had decades of trauma to turn himself into a prick, Nick had a measly seven. People didn't screw themselves up that fast, not when they were Larry Butz's best friend!

Though Nick was kinda making it hard to figure anything out, refusing to let Larry near him or anything. As much as he hated to admit it, Larry simply couldn't do this alone.

So, picking himself up off the bench and brushing off the dust for effect, Larry headed back to the hospital, grabbed his stuff, checked out, and went home to pick up the phone.

Even though he was a firm disbeliever in it, Larry found himself thinking, as he dialed, of an old familiar mantra that Phoenix once had. His mind drifted to college, where Phoenix was stuffing a hideously adorable pink sweater in the garbage can and dousing it with gasoline.

"Larry, I'm through with women," he announced, stern-faced. "They're nothing but trouble."

"Man, they're not all bad..." Larry protested. "I mean... there's so much good about them!"

Phoenix struck a match, and watched it burn for a moment. "Mm. But it's not so good when they try to kill you."

"...Yeah, true."

"Besides." Phoenix grinned as the flame slowly crept down the wood. "Bros Before Hos, man. Right? You and me."

Larry grinned, though it was forced. "Well, all right," he said, and Phoenix tossed the match in. The adorable sweater burst into flame, and Larry wished, regretfully, that he'd someday own a sweater like that one. Except without the psychotic girlfriends. Still, Dahlia had seemed like such a nice girl...

His mind snapped to the present, and he furrowed his brow as he listened to the phone's ringing: Bros Before Hos. And Phoenix was most certainly a Bro.

"Edgey, we've got an emergency on our hands," he blurted the instant he heard the voice at the other end. "Nick's brain is broken."


	2. Samurai Dreams & Damon Gant

Miles Edgeworth was thoroughly enjoying his cup of tea.

He was also thoroughly enjoying the balmy breeze ruffling through his bangs, the sweet scent of cherry blossoms in the air. Life was good.

There came a sound from his teacup. And, looking down in mild interest, he saw a disturbing sight.

"Hoho! Worthy, my boy!" said the hideous miniature monstrosity swimming in his tea. It appeared to be some sort of aquatic creature, with a long neck topped by the head of Damon Gant, complete with a higher-pitched version of his voice.

Edgeworth was horrified.

"Gone swimming lately?" the creature continued, paddling around in little circles in the cup. "Hoho! Swimming is a way of life!"

"Don't mind him," said Wendy Oldbag, from across the table. She was also drinking tea, and wore a red dress that was cut far too low, exposing her unusually large bosom. "He always does that."

Suddenly, Edgeworth was falling. He was falling, he was falling, he was swimming, swimming in a sea of papers, he was drowning. He was terrified.

He felt a hand in his, a hand pulling him through the terrible rustling whiteness. It belonged to a young, familiar face, and she was laughing at him.

"Edgeworth, put some effort into it, will you?" Maya Fey said, laughing and laughing some more. "You'll never learn how to be a decent prosecutor if you don't swim!"

"B-but," Edgeworth stammered, struggling to keep his head above the paper ocean, "_you're_ not a prosecutor."

"No, but it's still part of my training!" she said, and rose lightly into the air. "I'm a super hero, Edgeworth! Training is everything!" From the way she said it, it was clearly two different words.

Those words, however, were drowned out by the sound of applause like thunderclaps and laughter like reckless timpani. "What a pathetic prosecutor!" Damon Gant boomed, from somewhere unseen. "Truly pathetic!"

Thunder and lightning, and Edgeworth began drowning again. He heard someone whistling at him. "Edgeworth! Here! Take this!" From wherever her dry perch was, Maya tossed at him the legendary spear of the Steel Samurai, gleaming and glorious and astoundingly heavy. "It'll help you swim! Just take it!"

Edgeworth reached for it, and yet, through some astonishing anomaly of physics and chance, the spear began to float away, and the white-paper waters closed over his head to the sound of laughter and worried calls.

Whiteness, whiteness everywhere, and not a drop to drink; rustling pages, loose sheets of paper, covered in red, red marks, homework, they had just been given back their homework.

"Man! I totally did terrible on that test!" Larry Butz said, in his mosquito-buzz whine, slapping his hand against his forehead in an act of unconvincing anguish.

And Edgeworth suddenly became aware of the fact that he was ten years old, complete with a bow tie and shorts.

"Eh, I think I did pretty okay," Phoenix added, though his voice was strained and unfocused. He squinted as he looked at his page. "I messed up on that last problem big time, though."

"I'm sure you did fine," Edgeworth said, with some degree of comfort in his voice--his paper was perfect, as usual. Perfect as perfect could be.

"Yeah, I guess," he replied, and put the paper down on his desk, rubbing his temples. He sighed. "I'm a terrible Gameboy, though."

Edgeworth tilted his head, his eyebrows knit together. "...I'm sorry, a _what_?"

"Oh, come _on_, Edgey. You know what he's talking about," Larry replied, crossing his arms and wrinkling his abominable test as a result. "A Gameboy. Cos, y'know, he's game, and he's a boy. Duh."

It made perfect sense, in a way. "Oh," Edgeworth said, nodding. "So, um, what about girls? They're Gameboys too, right?"

"Well, _duh,_" Larry said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, "we all are."

"Yeah. Wait. No, not girls," Phoenix said. He sat down at his desk, looking out the window as he began to run his fingers through his hair agitatedly. "Their games are bad. Nothing but whips and poison."

"And ghosts?" Edgeworth found himself asking.

Phoenix looked at him, eyes screwed up as if he were looking into some too-bright light. "_You_ don't play with ghosts," he replied, almost sadly. He winced. "My head hurts," he said, and fell over onto the floor.

The classroom and everyone in it disappeared, save for Edgeworth and the little boy on the floor, sunlight casting a warm yellow on him that felt entirely out of place.

"Wright...?" Edgeworth said, kneeling, nudging the boy on the shoulder and hoping, dearly, that he would stir. "Father...?"

The boy had been replaced by a man, a man in a suit, his glasses knocked to the floor. Edgeworth could hardly breathe, and nudged harder. "Father!"

He stirred, and looked up at him and smiled. "Miles, I was only joking," he said, in a familiar voice. "Lighten up a little, will you?"

As the two of them stood, one of them smiling, one of them astonished, Edgeworth became aware of the fact that he was no longer a boy, but a fully-realized man. "Lighten up...?" he said, softly.

"Yes! It's a party, after all!" a female voice said, and a beautiful woman in a kimono stood beside his father, smiling and smiling some more.

"It's your _birthday_, Miles," his father added, and twirled his finger in the air with a grin.

Edgeworth, delighted and perplexed, turned around.

Everyone was there. Maya Fey, and Detective Gumshoe, and Mr. Armando, and the Judge, and Franziska, and the two sisters named Skye, and that little girl that always mispronounced his name, the one that always tagged along with Wright...

Where was Phoenix?

The answer came, almost immediately, in his mind, as the rest of them smiled at him.

_He didn't come._

Of course he didn't come, Edgeworth rationalized sadly; he had forgotten about it. Just like he had scraped his knee or bruised his eye and acted like it had never happened afterward. He had forgotten the whole thing.

Edgeworth had forgotten to feed Pess. Pess was a hungry puppy when he didn't get fed.

He wondered to himself whether Pess prefered beef or tuna dog food, and decided that he would never really know.

"Actually," Pess said, in a very concise manner, "I prefer chicken."

There came a horrendous shriek, sending dog and owner flying.

"BRAWWWK! BRAWWWK! DON'T FORGET DL-6, DON'T FORGET DL-6!"

Under the glow of the full moon, the Steel Samurai, his spear recovered, began flying into the horizon on the back of a magestic, ear-splittingly-loud bird. His theme song began playing gloriously as he rode into the moonset, or as gloriously as a MIDI ringtone could be.

_Dee-dee deee, dee-dee, deedle dee-deeeee! Dee!_

Who the hell was calling his cell phone at this hour.

Edgeworth glared at the headboard over his pillow. This wasn't happening. He was still dreaming, and he'd wake up refreshed from eight glorious hours of uninterrupted sleep any minute now, to wonderful German morning sunshine.

_Dee deedle-ee deedle-ee dee, deedle-ee deedle-ee dee, dee... _

As much as Edgeworth still enjoyed the Steel Samurai, there was time and a place for its theme song. One such time and once such place was every morning at 7:10, when he'd wake up and sing it, quietly, in the shower to get invigorated for the day. It had never failed him in nearly a decade of use.

This, however, was neither the time nor the place. The MIDI progressed into the vocal part of the song, but he picked it up before so much as a few notes could finish.

"What is it."

"Edgey? We've got an emergency on our hands. Nick's brain is broken."

At the sound of that miserable man's nasal voice, a vague and unsettling feeling of deja vu washed over him. The last time Larry called him like that, Phoenix had fallen off a burning bridge and was in the hospital. Experience told him that he would deal with something like that better in the morning.

He hung up.

_Dee-dee deee, dee-dee, deedle dee-deeeee! Dee!_

That infernal song again. He turned his phone on silent and turned over in bed.

He was woken up by the vibrate feature during the next call.

"Dude, Edgey! Your connection must suck or something. You with me, man?" Larry said immediately, after Edgeworth fumbled for the button to turn the phone on and put it to his ear.

"Larry do you have any idea what time it is," Edgeworth replied, barely able to lift his head above his pillow.

"What? Yeah, 'course I know what time it is. It's, like, 7. I just ate."

Edgeworth sighed. The unlovable oaf. "It's 3 AM in Germany, Larry."

"What? Oh, that's cool," Larry said, with utter disinterest in his voice.

"Larry. I have four hours of sleep left. I am going to hang up, and go to sleep. I will call you in the morning. Maybe," he said, managing to keep his temper lukewarm--then again, he was half-asleep. It wasn't particularly a difficult task.

"We don't have time for that, Edgey! This is important!" Larry replied, practically squealing with whatever it was that was getting him so excited.

"If it's important enough," Edgeworth said, sitting up and glancing at the clock--3:15 AM, damn it all--"it can wait until the morning."

"No, it _can't_," Larry said urgently. "It's Nick!"

Edgeworth vaguely recalled that the nickname had shown up in the first call. "Wright...?"

"Yeah! Wright! I mean Nick! There's something seriously wrong with him!" Larry replied. "You gotta come over here and, like, knock some sense into him."

"Hold on, hold on," Edgeworth said; he was rubbing his eyes, now, decidedly more awake and concerned. "_What's_ wrong with him? Did he fall off another bridge?"

"What? No, 'course he didn't," said Larry, the urgency promptly leaving his voice. It very quickly returned. "There's something wrong with his _brain_."

Edgeworth blinked and scowled slightly. "...his brain."

"Well yeah. He's..." Larry paused, and Edgeworth could hear a sort of scratching noise on the other end. "I dunno how to describe it, I'm like terrible with words. You're gonna have to come over and see for yourself."

"Larry," Edgeworth said, angrily flat, "I'm in _Germany._ You expect me to just drop everything and fly to the States because of..." He scratched his head, struggling to remember. "Because of whatever it is you just said?"

"Well yeah, you did it once!"

"That was an _emergency._"

"Yeah? Well, this is too!"

"Elaborate. And it had better be a real emergency," Edgeworth replied, his finger on the red button to end the call, "or I'm hanging up."

"Wait! Edgey! C'mon, don't be so harsh!" Larry pleaded. "Don't hang up!"

"...I never said I was going to _now,_" Edgeworth sighed, "only if it wasn't a real emergency. So tell me what's wrong."

"Oh, good," Larry said, with inappropriate perkiness. Edgeworth sighed again. "Okay, so Nick? He's got something wrong with his head."

"...you just said that."

"That's because that's what's wrong!"

Edgeworth blinked, took the phone away from his ear, stared at it for a moment, and returned it to his ear. "I'm hanging up."

"Wait! Wait, wait, hold on! Edgeworth! Uh, Miles! Miles, c'mon, please..." The voice was loud enough to be heard through the phone's earpiece a good distance away, and was utterly concerned and frightened enough to make him sigh and bring the phone to his ear again.

"You never call me Miles," was the first thing he said.

"Ha! Knew that would get your attention," Larry said, almost proudly, the sadness immediately evaporating.

"...hanging up for real, this time."

"...EDGEWORTH COME ON DON'T-"

As he ended the call, Edgeworth half-contemplated turning the phone off and leaving Larry to fend for himself with voicemail messages. However, he left the phone on, and didn't bother trying to get back to sleep, as the next call was seconds away.

He picked it up before the ringtone could get so much as two notes in, and the voice on the other end hardly allowed him to say so much as a "Hello," in its speed.

"OKAY SO I'LL BE SERIOUS THIS TIME SEE NICK'S ACTING TOTALLY WEIRD IT'S LIKE HE'S ANOTHER PERSON AND HE'S NOT A LAWYER ANYMORE AND EDGEY YOU'RE NOT GOING TO BELIEVE THIS BUT-"

"STOP," Edgeworth yelled, holding the phone well away from his ear and wincing. "For the love of god, Butz, will you slow down a little?!"

"I'm sorry, I just wanted to tell you everything!" Larry replied, whining.

"Tell me, but slowly, and once piece of information at a time. Please," Edgeworth said, deeply wishing he had a cup of tea. He decided to stroke Pess behind the ears to calm his nerves, as the dog was sleeping at the foot of his bed, as usual.

"Okay. Um. So, where do I start...?"

Edgeworth sighed once more. "Just... anywhere."

"Ah, okay. So, um..." And Larry thought. "Okay, so I broke my arm today working on a sculpture, yeah? So I went to the hospital to get it set, and I ran into this hot girl, and man was she ever cute. She was an artist, and-"

"I thought we were talking about Wright," Edgeworth said.

"I'm gettin' there! It's part of the story!" Larry said, and Edgeworth could practically picture his face screwed up in anger and frustration. "Anyways! So this girl, yeah, the hot one? So she invites me up to her room, and I'm like, 'Oh yeah, that's right.' But then I go up there, and you know who I see?"

Edgeworth yawned. "Who."

"Nick! It was Nick there! Man, you should have seen what he was wearing! He looked like some sorta hobo. Sweatpants and sandals and stuff?"

Edgeworth's eyebrows rose. Odd. "Go on...?"

"So yeah, I was like, 'Hey Nick!' Just being friendly and stuff, you know?"

Another yawn, smaller than the first. "Yes?"

"Well, what does he do? Just walks off without so much as a hello! Man, it was just too rude, and like, nothing he'd normally do. Right?"

There was silence. "...and? Is that all?"

"'course not, I was just collecting my thoughts!" Larry replied. He cleared his throat. "So I followed him around, and dude, he like, _yelled_ at me when I asked him what he'd been up to. So, like, I kept my distance, right?"

Edgeworth didn't reply.

"Right, so I kept my distance. And I followed him, you know? He's, like, a piano player now, did you know?"

"No, I didn't know." .

"Yeah, I saw him get fired."

"...fired?"

"Yeah, from this, like, restaurant or something. He didn't do squat, the manager said," Larry explained.

"...ah. Go on."

"Okay, so then I went and got lunch, and stuff, and then I went over to his old offices. And, and, guess what? This is, like, the weirdest part."

Edgeworth didn't feel like guessing.

"Okay, so I went up the fire escape to see what was up with him, yeah? The place is a MESS. And, and guess what?" Larry continued, as before, regardless. "He's got a _daughter,_ Edgey."

If Edgeworth had been drinking that tea he had been so dearly craving before, he'd most certainly have spit it out at that point. "A _what?!_"

"I know, man, I like.. had a heart attack or something!" Larry replied, sounding like he actually meant it. "I didn't get to see her, but boy, she sounded cute..."

"H-how did this happen?" Edgeworth found himself asking, quite beyond his control.

"Your guess is as good as mine, buddy," Larry replied. "Like, I didn't see his wife or anything. N'besides, his offices are such a mess that he can't _possibly_ have a wife. I mean, who's that bad at housekeeping? I mean, honestly!"

Edgeworth thought for a moment. "Do you suppose that... girl from the hospital had anything to do with it?"

"Huh? Which girl?"

"The, erm..." Edgeworth struggled for words. It was far, far too early to think. "The 'hot' one, as you said."

"Oh yeah, my teddy bear! Yeah, she wasn't with him. They said so themselves. Man, thank God. She's all mine, now! I gotta call her-"

"Butz," Edgeworth warned, and Larry reeled himself in, mid-sentence.

"Oh, right, right. You only wanna hear the important stuff," Larry said, and cleared his throat again. "Okay, so, like, the most important thing? Besides his daughter and all? He's not a lawyer anymore, can you believe it?"

"...I already knew that."

And Edgeworth truly did; he read the newspapers on the days following that terrible scandal, and couldn't remember ever feeling more ashamed to know such a careless, foolish, prideful lawyer.

Still, remembering the countless things he had learned from the man, a few days of contemplation ended in an email of forgiveness and consolation. Several, in fact.

Phoenix hadn't written back to any of them.

Larry had continued on, interestingly enough, without him noticing. "...so weird without that suit on, and he's got a weird hat on, too. And a _daughter_, Edgey, I mean... come on! You, maybe, but him? No, never! I mean, he just doesn't-"

"Larry," Edgeworth said, and Larry somehow stopped. "So you say he's acting strangely...?"

"Pff, dude? I've been saying that since the beginning," Larry replied.

Edgeworth thought for a moment. Not an email replied, not a phone call answered... "I think I may come by for a visit, just to see what you're talking about," he said. "And to see this... daughter of his, if that's the case. How in the world did that happen...?" he added, half-thinking it to himself.

"Maybe he, like, bought her on the internet. Or something," Larry said. One could practically hear him shrugging. "You can do anything on the internet these days."

Edgeworth couldn't bring himself to say anything, and ended up sighing again. The idiot. "Regardless. I'll call you in the morning if I can make any travel plans in the next few days."

"All _right!_" Larry cheered. "Thanks, man! I knew you'd give in!"

"...give in?"

"Figure of speech, or whatever."

"Sure." Edgeworth yawned. "Just curious, Butz, but... why did you call me?"

"Eh? Call you?"

"Yes. For instance, you could have called those Fey girls just as well. They'd likely be more concerned than I." What had they been doing lately, anyways? Edgeworth hadn't spoken with any of the girls in years, and only really kept in touch through a yearly Christmas card. Well, that, and the odd piece of Steel Samurai memorabilia sent from them to him in the mail.

Secretly, Edgeworth kept everything they sent him. But that was quite beside the point, he felt, and would cough primly whenever he glanced at the collection on his study's bookshelf. Collector's figurines were worth something in years passing, after all. Sentimentality had nothing to do with it.

"Well," Larry continued, snapping him out of his thoughts after a particularly lengthy pause, "see, you and me? We've known him since we were, like, little. 'course I'd call you first. You know him better."

"...right," Edgeworth said, though there was a small, almost warm recognition of the fact in his chest. They _did_ know him better. "Well, regardless. I'll try to arrange a visit. For now, however, I need to sleep."

"Sleep! Yeah! Totally! Sleep, yeah, I should be getting some of that too..." Larry said, but Edgeworth didn't hear the rest of it, for he was yawning.

"Goodbye, Larry," he said, and hung up in the middle of Larry's farewell.

He stared at the phone for a brief while, half expecting it to ring again, before turning it off and flopping on the pillows.

He dreamt of the Phoenix that Larry Butz had described, dressed in sweatpants and sandals, with a strange hat that he couldn't quite describe and a cold expression on his face. A small girl peered from behind his legs, but no matter how he tried, he could never quite get a good look at her. He supposed that she looked like her father, but it was a dream, and when he awoke, he could not remember it.

He sang very, very loudly in the shower that morning.


	3. Very Bad Instant Tea

A few days later, Edgeworth found himself in front of the Gatewater Hotel receiving an almost unpleasantly surprising hug from a person he hadn't seen in years.

The good news was that it wasn't Larry. Which, considering it all, was rather good news indeed.

The bad news was that it was one Miss Maya Fey, and that fact caused him a small bit of embarrassment and a great deal of pain. She'd grown quite a bit since their last meeting.

"Ms. Fey... I can't... breathe..." he gasped, and she quickly let him go.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry! It's just been so long!" she said, grinning. He managed to scrape together a smile in return while breathing deeply and thankfully.

"Yes, it certainly has," he said. "And how have you been?"

"Good, good," she replied. She looked like she had been doing well, certainly, her smile as bright as ever. No longer the skinny little thing that he remembered from years ago, she had filled out significantly while still maintaining the air of an overgrown child in her stance and voice.

"You've been all right too, haven't you, Mr. Edgeworth?"

Another voice joined hers, and Edgeworth turned to see someone rather unexpected and unfamiliar.

It was a girl in her teens, dressed in the uniform of a Kurain channeler. For the life of him, however, Edgeworth couldn't identify her at all.

"Can't remember me, can you?" she said playfully, and he winced a little. "Found you out, huh?"

"Don't worry, Edgey's like this all the time, arentcha, buddy?" Larry said, clapping him on the back.

"...please don't call me 'buddy,'" Edgeworth replied, tensing from Larry's unexpected contact. "Erm, yes, you are...?"

"Don't you recognize her? It's Pearly!" Maya said. "She tagged along, but only 'cos she wanted to see Nick so much."

"It's been a long time!" Pearl said, bowing a little and smiling sunnily. "I've been looking forward to this."

Edgeworth felt like slapping himself. Of _course_ it was Pearl. "You've grown," he said.

Pearl smiled at him again. "I'm turning 17 this year, you know," she said.

"Really, now."

"Yes, and I was thinking maybe-"

"YOU GUYS NEED TO CONCENTRATE."

Larry was yelling.

"...there's no need to shout," Edgeworth said, glaring at him. "We're in a public place, you know."

"Yes, I know! But seriously, you guys, there's no time for that!" he said. "You even remember why we're here...?"

"Wright," said Edgeworth, nodding gravely.

"Oh yeah, something about Nick, right?" Maya added.

"You did say we were visiting because Mr. Nick was sick, didn't you, Mystic Maya?" Pearl said.

Maya shrugged. "That's what Larry told me, or something."

"Well, yeah! There's something wrong with him!" Larry said.

"So you claim," Edgeworth said, which incited a rather angry glare from Larry. "I think the only reason I'm here is to see this odd behavior for myself."

"I just want to see if he's doing all right. It's been a while, y'know!" Maya added. "You didn't really say what was wrong with him when you called, Larry."

"Yeah I did!"

The three of them stared at him with cocked eyebrows, which were quickly exchanged. "What exactly did he tell you?" Edgeworth asked.

Maya shrugged. "He just said that Nick was acting sorta weird, and I figured, 'Hey, maybe it's about time for a visit,' so I sorta used it as an excuse." She shrugged again. "I haven't seen him since god knows when."

"Me neither!" Pearl added. "We do send him stuff every Christmas, though. Though he doesn't send us stuff back..." she added sadly.

"Don't worry about it, Pearly," Maya said, patting the girl on the head (having to stretch a little as she did so, for Pearl was nearly as tall as her) and smiling. "Nick was always too poor for real Christmas presents!"

"Oh, yeah! He'd apologize so much for that," Pearl said, with a smile altogether too cheerful for the subject material. Unnoticed by Larry, Edgeworth provided what he felt was a necessary uncomfortable glance.

"Either way," he said, clearing his throat, "you're unaware of his... strange behavior?"

"Clueless," Maya said, smiling. "B'sides, Nick's always been kinda weird."

"But I told you over the phone...!" Larry whined. "Maya, I told you! Remember? That one time?"

"I wasn't really listening, you know," Maya replied. "I just got all excited by the idea of having a real excuse to see Nick. So... y'know!" She grinned.

"Maayaaaaa..."

"Pull yourself together, will you? You're the one who organized this little 'intervention' in the first place," Edgeworth said, with a very stuffy tone in his voice. "What matters is that we're all together, which is, apparently, what you wanted. So, what do we do now?"

"Oh yeah, we're gonna visit him!" Larry said brightly.

"Cool, great!" said Maya, and Edgeworth sighed. "Pearly and I brought a present, by the way."

Pearl brandished a small paper box, and smiled almost embarrassedly. "It's not really much of a present..." she said. "I just made some strawberry desserts before we left, just like my mom used to make. I thought he'd like them."

"Of course he's gonna like them, Pearly! Aunt Morgan always made the best desserts," Maya said, patting Pearl on the head again. "So, uh, are we going to his house?"

"What? No, I have no idea where that is," Larry replied, tilting his head. "I figured we'd go to his office, 'cos that's where I saw him last time. Well, outside the hospital, and I don't think he'd be there again."

"Oh yeah! And that's just across the street," said Maya, tilting her head. "Good thinking, Larry! Wow, it's been so long..."

"His office?" Edgeworth said, interrupting her. "Why would he still have it? He's no longer a lawyer."

"Heck if I know," Larry said, shrugging. "Either way, c'mon! Let's go!" And with that, Larry ran off at full speed.

It didn't take very long for the rest of them to catch up. "Boy, you sure can't run, Larry," Maya remarked.

"H-ha! I'm just tired... 'cos of my... arm!" Larry panted, hands on his knees. "It's takin' up... all-a... my energy...! To heal! ...yeah!"

"...right. When you're finished," Edgeworth said coolly, "we'll just cross the street together. And we'll _walk_."

"Walking's for... losers..." Larry said, and began running again across the street, despite the fact that there was a full stream of traffic on the road.

Edgeworth kneaded the skin between his eyes as Larry narrowly avoided being hit by the third passing car and its expletive-spewing driver. "If he keeps this up, he'll have more than that damned broken arm of his," he groaned.

"What did he break it from, anyways?" Maya asked.

"I have no idea," Edgeworth said, and began to walk when the light for the crosswalk gave the okay. Larry stood, waiting for them, once they reached the other side, breathless and triumphant.

-/-

A girl answered the door, after they climbed the familiar stairs up to the offices and knocked on a very familiar door. She was wearing a pink apron and yellow rubber gloves, and her face was eager and expectant. "Yes?"

Edgeworth, being at the front of the little group ("Butz, I think that you're not exactly someone he wants to see right now.") cleared his throat and put on as diplomatic an air as he could. "Is this the Wright Law Agency?" he asked. "Or, erm, what used to be it?"

"Yeah, a long time ago," the girl replied. "We _are_ dabbling a little in law now, though, what with Polly around, but we're mostly still the Wright Anything Agency! Do you need to hire anyone?" She smiled a perfect smile, one which Edgeworth often saw in people that were trying to sell him something.

"No, we're not here to hire anyone," Edgeworth replied, his brow lowering. "We'd like to speak to Phoenix Wright, if it's possible."

"Oh, all of you?" the girl said, peering around Edgeworth's wide shoulders and seeing Maya, Pearl, and Larry waiting earnestly behind him. Larry waved at her rather eagerly. "You want to talk to Daddy? He's taking a nap right now, but I could go wake him up."

The four of them froze. "D-Daddy...?" Edgeworth said, trying to keep his jaw from dropping too noticeably.

"Yep! I'm Trucy Wright, doting daughter and magician extraordinaire!" the girl said proudly.

"Just how old are you, exactly?" Edgeworth asked, while Maya, Pearl, and Larry tittered behind him.

"Well, um, my birthday's in January, and it'll be my Sweet Sixteen, so I've been asking Daddy if I could do something special," she replied, and folded her arms, looking up. "He hasn't given me an answer yet, but it's okay! I've got a few months to let him think of something!"

"Oh, so you're about my age!" Pearl said, as Edgeworth did a quick sum in his mind, and found several strange and entirely impossible notions entering quickly thereafter. He exchanged a confused glance or two with Maya, as Pearl and Trucy continued on. Larry was currently inspecting a rubber plant in the hallway, for some reason known only to him.

"Really? What's your name?" Trucy asked.

"I'm Pearl Fey. It's so nice to meet you! Your father and I knew each other when I was little," Pearl said pleasantly. "Have you heard of me?"

"Nope! I'll have to ask him about all of you. I don't even know your names!" She gasped. "Oh, I know! I'll have Daddy introduce me to all of you. Please come in, I'll go wake him up!"

Hesitantly, and almost fearfully, Edgeworth entered, with Pearl and Maya following behind in mild caution and Larry tailing them in pure, ignorant bliss a few seconds later. "Please, sit anywhere," Trucy continued, and disappeared through the door that led to what used to be Phoenix's personal office. "I'll be right back!"

"...I don't think there's anywhere to sit," Maya said, glancing around at the almost obscene amount of clutter in what used to be the lobby.

"Pff! You're not trying hard enough, Maya," Larry said, and perched himself on top of a series of stacked boxes. "See? She told us to sit anywhere."

Edgeworth remained standing, still thinking. Incomplete questions flew from his mouth in rapid mutterings. "Who in the world would... Who is her... Eighteen...?!"

"Are you okay, Mr. Edgeworth?" Pearl asked, as Maya attempted to sit on the empty couch arm with some success.

"...Eighteen?!" Edgeworth said again. Pearl backed away in mild concern, and busied herself in trying to find a seat for herself.

"...here, Daddy, there's four people here to see you." Trucy's voice slowly faded in from behind the door. "Do you know any Pearls, by the way?"

The door opened, and there he stood.

His eyes were half-closed and sleepy; a blue hat was sloppily tossed on his head, nearly falling off. His clothes were decidedly wrinkled.

"...ah," was all he said.

"Nick!" Maya squealed, and ran forward to give him a hug. "It's so good to see you!"

"Ah, yeah. Hi, Maya," he said, and gave her a squeeze that was less a hug and more of a touch. He backed away. "Hello, Edgeworth."

"Wright," Edgeworth replied, nodding, holding back the urge to gape.

"Where's the cravat?"

He gaped, just slightly. "Excuse me?"

"You look strange without it," Phoenix replied, walking past Maya and taking things off the nearby couch. "Maybe you should reconsider."

"...um." Edgeworth couldn't bring himself to say anything else, as Phoenix finished clearing the couch and laid down on it. He yawned. "Perhaps...?"

"Mm," Phoenix said, and said nothing else.

"Daddy," Trucy said, after a bought of silence that was mixed with near-palpable confusion and bafflement, "aren't you going to introduce me to these people? I think they know you."

"Ah." Phoenix sat up, and rubbed his eyes, adjusting his hat. "Sure. You all introduce yourselves. This is my daughter Trucy, by the way."

"I already told them that, Daddy," Trucy said, rolling her eyes, but with a smile.

"Ah, right," Phoenix said, and blinked once or twice. "Well?"

Ever the leader, Edgeworth took the initiative. "Um. I'm Miles Edgeworth, your... er... father and I were... friends when he was still a lawyer," he said, after clearing his throat, finding it unusually hard to say anything at all.

"Friends, huh?" Phoenix said quietly, almost silently, from the couch. Edgeworth stared at him as Maya introduced herself in a decidedly warmer fashion.

He concluded, after looking him over, that he was in shock, which was something he truly didn't expect. The last time he had seen Phoenix, he was in the usual blue suit and red tie, and he was laughing embarrassedly at the fact that, once again, the dinner bill was his to cover. He wasn't this ragged dog of a man in a sweatshirt and hat, with five o' clock shadow and glazed eyes. It was almost as if they were two different individuals, and yet...

"I'm Larry! Larry Butz! I came by and visited the other day, you remember?" Larry said cheerfully and loudly, from a few feet away.

"I don't seem to remember that happening," Phoenix said, scratching the back of his head idly. "You were stalking me, _that_ I remember."

"Wow, Daddy, you have a stalker? I didn't know you had that many fans!" Trucy said brightly. "Has your piano playing been improving that much?"

"Haha. I don't think Daddy has _that_ many fans," Phoenix replied, and a sick feeling jolted Edgeworth in the stomach, a milder version of the shock he felt upon learning that Phoenix had a daughter. He hoped that he wasn't the only one feeling uncomfortable, but looking around, he found that he was indeed probably alone.

"What a cute kid, Nick, I mean _really_," Larry continued.

"Keep that up, Larry, and I'll call the police and say there's a pedophile in my house," Phoenix replied flatly.

There was a sharp and very uncomfortable silence.

"...I'm kidding. Ha ha ha." Phoenix laughed, but it wasn't anything like his usual laugh. Even Maya grimaced, just a little.

Trucy, however, was decidedly unaffected. "Oh, Daddy, you're so funny," she said. Giggling.

"We brought a gift, Mr. Nick!" Pearl said, losing her patience and holding out the box of desserts, hoping for some friendlier conversation. "It's some strawberry desserts! I thought you'd like them."

Phoenix looked them over, then took the box from her hands and looked inside. "You didn't bring any of that bitter green tea, did you?" he asked, not looking at her.

"Oh, no, I didn't think to bring that," Pearl replied. "I don't really like it, so-"

"Bitter enough to make your tongue fall out of your mouth..." Phoenix said softly, and closed the box. "Well, it's better than nothing. Thanks for not doing that. Trucy, you can share these with our guests," he said, giving them to his daughter. "I'll go make some tea, I guess. Be right back."

"...you're welcome?" Pearl said quietly, as Trucy opened the box herself and remarked at how large the desserts were.

"I just want to bury my face in them!" she laughed.

"Don't you just want to, though?" Maya said, and laughed with her. "They're so good! I can never seem to make them just right, but Pearly's got the touch, I guess!"

"Trucy, just curious, but your father's not... married, is he?" Edgeworth asked, unable to contain himself.

Trucy shook her head. "Nuh-uh. I've been meaning for him to find me a mama, though," she replied. "He's taking far too long!"

"Find you a..." Edgeworth began, completely at a loss, when Trucy laughed and interrupted him.

"A new one! My real mom's not around anymore," she said, and her smile faded to a smaller one.

"Oh, I'm... sorry," Edgeworth said, as the air became quiet and sad. "Did you come to live with Wri- I mean your father after she-"

"No, no! I still lived with my other daddy," Trucy replied, her mood brightening. "I didn't get _this_ daddy until I was just a little older."

"Other daddy?" everyone asked, Larry included, despite the fact that he had been looking through cabinets and boxes at the other side of the room.

Trucy nodded. "My other daddy, Zak Enigmar! He's a famous magician," she replied. "Daddy defended him in court, and that's when he disappeared, so... now I'm here!"

"So he's not your _real_ father?" Maya said, and Trucy shrugged.

Edgeworth's face became very grim as Trucy replied, and Pearl noticed. "Are you all right, Mr. Edgeworth?" she asked.

"It's nothing," he lied. He recognized that name, the name of Phoenix's last defendant, and it didn't make him feel any better about the current situation of things.

"Oh, so you're adopted!" Maya concluded, loudly.

"I think you got the gist of it, Maya," Phoenix said, entering the room with a tray of mis-matched cups and a thermos of something. "I adopted Trucy seven years ago."

"Eight in May!" Trucy said. "Or was it June? Cos there were papers and things to sort out."

Phoenix chuckled softly to himself. "Sometime around then. Help yourselves to some tea."

Edgeworth, stealing a glance at the strange man that was somehow Phoenix, poured himself some of the liquid in the thermos (apparently, it was tea) into a mug with a strange illustration of an owl on it. "Thanks," he said, and upon taking a sip, he nearly spit it out. It tasted chemical and thin and didn't resemble tea at all.

"...this is instant, isn't it," he said, disdainfully.

Phoenix shrugged casually, not looking at him. "I don't really drink tea. It's the best I could do," he said. "It's not like the tea is asking you to drink it, so don't force yourself on it."

Edgeworth puzzled over the statement for a moment as Phoenix moved to another side of the room, and decided that it only made a little sense, so it wasn't worth thinking any harder about it.

"So, how have you been, Mr. Nick?" Pearl asked, serving herself a cup of tea quite neatly. "I hope you've been enjoying our letters! We just haven't heard back from you, and-"

"I've been well enough," Phoenix said, giving her a slight, sleepy smile, before leaning against a wardrobe and looking out the window, saying nothing.

"Really! What's been keeping you busy?" Pearl continued, but she received no answer. "Have you watched the Steel Samurai movies that Mystic Maya and I sent you?" He blinked.

"Maybe he's still asleep," Larry offered, a dessert in each hand, his eyes observing Phoenix warily. "There _is_ something wrong with him. Maybe it's some rare Living Dead disease!"

"I'm not a zombie, Larry," Phoenix said, and that was that.

"Um, Trucy! What kinds of things do you like to do?" Maya asked from the couch, as Trucy had cleared the seats of junk (placing it kindly on the floor behind it). "Are you in any sports at school? Clubs?"

"Well, I don't really have time for clubs or anything at school," Trucy replied. She had gotten herself a juice glass full of tea and a decidedly large dessert, holding one in either hand. "I've transferred so many times that I haven't really had the time, even outside of my work!"

"You have a job?" Edgeworth said, eyebrow raised. "At your age?"

"I'm a professional magician!" Trucy declared. "A child performer, if you will. It's kinda cool, huh?"

"NO WAY." Maya practically jumped out of her seat. "You're a magician? A professional one?!"

Trucy nodded energetically and set her tea and dessert down on the coffee table. "Yep! When I'm out of school, I'll be able to tour! For now, though, I'm just doing local venues."

"Is that so," Edgeworth said, attempting to enjoy the tea at least a little. He wasn't succeeding.

"Can we see a trick?" Pearl asked, succeeding at enjoying the tea, but only with a gratuitous bite of dessert along with it. "A simple one's fine, if you don't have the time to prepare..."

"Oh, don't worry! I know lots of on-the-spur tricks," Trucy said proudly, grinning. "A performer is nothing unless she can perform at the drop of a hat!"

She snapped her fingers, and a blue silk hat suddenly appeared at in her grasp. Maya's eyes were as wide as dinner plates. "WOAH. How'd you _do _that?" she asked.

"I'm not even finished with the trick!" Trucy laughed. "Besides, a magician never reveals their secrets." She winked, and after showing that the hat was empty, produced a strawberry dessert from it. There was a reasonable amount of applause from the guests, even a few claps from Phoenix himself, which mildly surprised Edgeworth and Larry.

"I'll show you more later, if you want," Trucy said, and stuffed the dessert in her mouth. "Mm! Thiff iff rearry goo'! Are you a..." She swallowed. "Are you a chef, Ms. Fey?"

"Me? Oh, no. Pearly made those," Maya said. "And neither of us are chefs," she added, before Pearl could say anything. "We're channelers."

"Channelers? What, so you guys fix TV's? That's way awesome!" Trucy said.

"No, no!" the cousins said, waving their hands. "It's nothing like that. We channel the souls of the dead through our bodies," Maya continued, in what was obviously a well-rehearsed explanation.

It was to be expected, anyways; the Fey family had been gaining increased fame and reliability with the police since Maya became head of the clan, and as such, to-the-point explanations were often necessary for the influx of the uninformed.. "It's been passed down from mother to daughter for generations," she concluded.

"Oh, a mother-daughter magician family? That's even cooler!" Trucy said, biting into her second dessert. "I can totally relate. Could you show me that 'channeling' trick sometime? I'd just like to see it. Do you channel famous people mostly?"

"It's not magic..." Pearl said, smiling a little embarrassedly. "Mystic Maya, would you like me to channel somebody to demonstrate?"

"No, no, I'll do it," Maya said, smirking. She closed her eyes.

"I don't think that's necessary," Phoenix said.

Maya's eyes opened. "Huh? What?"

Phoenix yawned, and left his spot by the window. "I'm not exactly in the mood for this sort of thing."

"I was just gonna channel Mia. I mean, she hasn't seen you in-" Maya began, almost defensively, a nervous smile on her face. Larry and Edgeworth looked on in slight surprise.

"I'm not exactly in the mood for talking to... her, right now," Phoenix interrupted. He didn't look at any of them as he spoke. "I'm tired. I'm going back to sleep. Take care of our guests for me, Trucy."

Saying no more, he entered his office, and shut the door quietly behind him.

"I think we'll be leaving now," said Edgeworth, after putting down his mug.

"What? Why?" Maya, Trucy, and Larry chorused in unison.

"We came here to speak to your father, and it seems he's... not up to it at the moment," he said, standing. "Sorry for being such trouble."

"No, it was nice having you over! It's great meeting Daddy's friends," Trucy said. "All right. I have to finish cleaning, anyways. Come back any time!"

"Edgeworth, we barely got here..." Larry whined, and he received a glare so poisonous that he gulped slightly.

"Take care," Edgeworth said, nodding, and leaving.

"See you later, Trucy. It was great meeting you," Maya said, waving and smiling, a dessert half-eaten in her other hand.

"Yeah, you too! Pearl, let's hang out sometime, okay? Visit!" Trucy said. "I wanna see that channeling trick someday!" Pearl nodded with a warm smile.

"Hey, Trucy, if your dad does anything weird just tell us, okay? We're kinda worried and stuff and-" Larry began, but was dragged out of the room by Edgeworth mid-sentence.

"Say goodbye, Butz."

"BYE!"

Larry was forced down the stairs with a nervously cheerful grin on his face. Typical Butz.

-/-

"That was a terrific waste of our time," Edgeworth declared sourly, sighing and folding his arms. "I'm heading back to the hotel."

"No, it wasn't! He let us in!" Larry protested. "You guys saw what he was like!"

"For all of five minutes," Edgeworth replied. "All I could see was that he was tired and not in the mood for a visit."

"Yeah, but Edgeworth! His clothes! And the calling of the police! And, and, and leaving all unexpected like that! That was weird, wasn't it?" Larry said. "C'mon, you guys agree with me, dontcha?" he continued, appealing to the Feys.

"Well, he didn't call the police, but just saying that just felt... off," Maya said, pinching her chin in thought as they crossed the street together. "And he wasn't dressed neatly, but he _was_ taking a nap..."

"NICK NEVER TOOK NAPS," Larry yelled. "Not ever! Not even in... in... in kindergarten!"

"And what evidence do you have of this?" Edgeworth scoffed.

"I dunno." Larry shrugged. "You're the lawyer, you're supposed to have the evidence," he replied.

Edgeworth sighed very loudly and kneaded his forehead. "At any rate," he said, "I just don't think he's acting oddly enough to warrant such an emergency meeting as this. It's been seven years."

"But he's being _weird_, you guys," Larry said, his voice oozing with pathetic whine. "_Really_ weird. We gotta find out what's up."

"I dunno, Mr. Butz," Pearl said thoughtfully. "I think we should visit him again at a better time, because I know that Mystic Maya isn't always the nicest person right after taking a nap..."

"Pearl, how can you say that!" Maya pouted, and folded her arms.

"But it's true, Mystic Maya! I'm sorry!" Pearl said.

Maya smiled a little. "It's all right," she said. "I think Edgeworth's onto something, though. I mean, he was acting a little weird, even for being just woken up. I'd be up for trying another visit."

"See what I mean?" Larry said, smirking.

Edgeworth didn't reply, sighing again.

"What do you think is wrong with him, anyways? Is he sick?" Maya continued.

"I think it's his evil twin. I mean, the real Nick doesn't act like that," said Larry, nodding.

"He doesn't have any siblings," said Edgeworth. "You've been friends with him longer than I have, you should know that."

"Yeah, true..." Larry paused in thought. "Maybe he got abducted by aliens," he hazarded. "Like, the real Nick is up in Saturn or something being held hostage."

"I don't see why aliens would want to take Mr. Nick..."

"Yeah, true. He's kinda plain." Larry thought a little more. "Ooh, ooh! What if he's, like, an alien?"

"You just said that," Edgeworth said, before realizing he was even taking part in the conversation and vowing not to speak up again.

"No, no, I mean, like... Superman! Like he's been an alien all along and he's going through this molt and stuff that messes with his head!"

"...uh, I don't think so, Larry," Maya said. "Pearly, do you have your cell phone? Want to call the taxi to our hotel?"

Pearl nodded, as Larry screwed up his face in thought, doing an excellent impression of an unfortunate victim of severe constipation.

"WAIT! No, wait! Okay, so the alien idea is stupid. He'd kinda, like, be out as a vigilante by now if that was the case," he said, completely unaware that nobody was really listening to him by that point. "Maybe... maybe he's got stuff in his brain that's messing with him. Like... like little aliens, or robots, or-"

Suddenly, the most amazing idea in the world hit Larry, and he grabbed Maya and Edgeworth each by the shoulder, turning them towards him. They simply had to hear it.

"...I _got_ it!" Larry said. "It's so simple! Nick's a cyborg! We need to repair his brain!"

"...that's the stupidest thing I've heard yet," Edgeworth decided, and began walking away again.


End file.
